


the things they carried

by atlas (songs)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: A dump of all my one-shots for them, M/M, collection, i'm sorry everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 12,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4514364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songs/pseuds/atlas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can see two boys, twelve and twelve. Young to everything but themselves. </p><p>(<i>collection of one-shots. killua/gon.</i>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the things he carried

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically a dump of all the pieces i've written for them ~! please do enjoy (:

❀  

On his shoulders, Killua carries: guilt. Regret. History. Memories. And, more literally—a knapsack of all his possessions: hair-combs, t-shirts, thick folds of jenny.

Then, there are the mementos. Trinkets, laden with time and stories. Killua never does forget the stories, the ones Gon would so easily weave together in his child-voice. A flower, pressed and blue— _this is wild indigo, it can live longer than most people._ A seashell, the color of rouge— _they say that the sea-goddess wears these on her neck, like jewels._ Letters, crumpled and yellowed— _Dear Killua, Dear Killua, Dear Killua,_ Love  _Gon_.  And then, a portrait of an island, shaped like a whale— _Come back here,_ it does not say,  _come back here, and find_ him  _again._  

Killua keeps these things wrapped, hidden. Yet Alluka still manages to find them one day, when she is rummaging through his bag for snacks. He does not scold her, although part of him wants to. A larger part of him wants to dump all of this to sea, wants to forget, to be  _free._

Killua watches his sister place the letters aside, a knowing gleam to her eyes. She does not read them. Instead, she picks up the postcard, the one from Whale Island, her fingers brushing dust from the image of green and water.

Whale Island is a place that lives in Killua’s memories. A tinny universe, warm and close to his heart. He hasn’t been there for half a lifetime. But sometimes, he still dreams about it, as though it were yesterday. Killua, at eighteen, can shut his eyes and see the map of stars, the stretches of forest. The beaming, family-faces, the river-fish and flowers.

Killua can see two boys, twelve and twelve. Young to everything but themselves. He smiles now, neither bitter nor yearning. Just content. Although, he still wonders. He really, really wonders.

Alluka is quiet when she snaps him from his reverie. She asks, gently, “Will you take me here, someday?” 

Killua’s lips quirk.

(In another voice, in another life— _Killua, please, will you come back here, again?)_

He promises, “Someday.”

 

 


	2. and morning comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What about you,” Gon repeats. “How long are you going to live for other people?”

i.

Over the years, they meet at strange times, in stranger places. These run-ins are always short, and always accidental. After all, there is an unspoken agreement, soul-heavy between them:  _Do not look for me._ It isn’t out of spite, or anger, but a mutual understanding—

_Someday, I will be ready to know you, again._

 

And yet: the world is very small.

ii.

When Gon is sixteen, he spends six months in a seaside town, off the coast of Azian. There, he finally grasps at the beginnings of Nen, again, sometimes even keeping his Ten going for hours on end.

It’s a start. 

And Gon, if anything, has always been one for a challenge. He is also, apparently, one for ghosts.

He finds one walking through the market, during a starless night. He is moon-pale, light-haired and light-eyed. Next to him, there is a girl—a  _beautiful_ girl—in a fairytale-dress, holding onto his arm. They are browsing the stalls, and Gon can’t stop staring, even when the other boy starts to stare back.

“Gon?” asks the ghost–no, the  _boy–_ in a deep, half-familiar voice.

It makes sense, really. They haven’t seen each other in almost a year, after a brief meeting on Whale Island. Things are always fated to change. 

So Gon says, “Hi, Killua,” but try as he might, he cannot form a smile.

iii.

They don’t talk until Alluka is asleep.

“It’s been a while,” Killua says, after a length of quiet. They’re sitting on the floor of Gon’s messy cabin, a spread of snacks and tea on the table between them.

“It has,” Gon says, his tone oddly gentle.  Killua’s always had a knack for tugging at these sides of him—these tender parts he can’t put a name to.

 _You’ve also been very cruel,_ his heart reminds him. And Gon knows this. He’s never thought himself a kind boy, but he’d like to be, for Killua, at the very least.

He asks, “How are you?”

“Good,” Killua answers.

“Good,” Gon echoes. “I’m glad.”

 _I miss you,_ he doesn’t say.  _You’re sitting three feet away from me, but I still miss you._

 

“What have you been up to?” Killua asks, to break the silence. He doesn’t mention the messages Gon stopped sending, months and months ago.

Gon is grateful for it.

“Nen,” Gon says. “I don’t know if I told you, but I lost it, back then. After…”

_After you brought me back._

“Oh,” Killua murmurs. “You didn’t—I didn’t know. Uh. I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologize,” Gon tells him, softly. “That’s silly, considering everything you’ve done for me.”

“…Maybe,” Killua says.

“Maybe,” Gon repeats, before asking, “Ne, Killua?”

“Mm?”

“Have you found it yet?”

Killua tilts his head, confused. “Found what?”

“The thing you want to do most.”

Something in Killua’s expression darkens. “What do you mean?”

“I’m asking,” Gon says, “do you know what you want to do?”

_Do you remember our promise?_

 

“I told you,” Killua says, sharply. “I’m going to protect Alluka.”

“I know you will,” Gon says. “But what about you?”

“What  _about_ me?” Killua snarls, moving to stand. Gon grasps at his wrist to settle him, and the other boy yanks away from the touch.

He can’t blame him.

“What about you,” Gon repeats. “How long are you going to live for other people?”

Killua paces to the other end of the room. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

Gon gets to his feet, and follows. “Why did you come to this town?”

“Why did  _you_ come?” Killua retorts.

“It felt like a dreamy place,” Gon tells him. “I thought I’d be able to train here, peacefully. What about you?”

Killua doesn’t look at him.

“Because…” he starts, stops. Swallows. And then, finally, finally, “Because Alluka wanted to.”

A strange glimmer passes along Killua’s face, like he’s only just realized something important. Gon smiles.

“Do you get it now?”

“I love her,” Killua says, too quickly. “She’s my sister and I love her. I—”

“I know that,” Gon says to him. “She loves you, too.”

“I know that,” Killua says back.

“And,” Gon says, not sure if he will regret it. “I love you.”

“I—” This time, Killua stiffens. “I didn’t know that,” he manages, after a few moments. His neck is red. But he doesn’t drop his eyes.

“Mito-san was telling me,” Gon murmurs, “when you love someone, you don’t trap them. That’s why she let me take the Hunter Exam…”

“No one’s trapping me,” Killua snaps.

“Killua—”

“You don’t get to do this,” Killua hisses. “You can’t just disappear on me and then act like you  _know_  things, Gon.”

“You’re right.” Gon takes a step forward, and he can see the workings of Killua’s mind, right there in his eyes, as he forces himself not to move back. “But—”

“I’m going to sleep,” Killua says. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

He’s pleading. And Gon, despite everything, can’t push any further.  _I don’t want to break you, anymore._

 

“Okay.” Gon shifts away. “Good night, Killua.”

In a sad voice: “Goodbye, Gon.”

iv.

The next morning, when Gon awakens, Killua and Alluka are already gone.

He finds the note by his bedside.

 _We caught an early ship to a nearby island. It’s famous for its lightning-storms. I thought I could learn something. Take care._  

_Killua._

 No ‘thank you’, no ‘I’m sorry,’ no ‘see you later’.

Gon sets down the paper, takes in a deep breath.

“Time to train,” he says aloud, before getting out of bed.


	3. in all my nightmares, i am living life without you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, Killua, you really are amazing.”
> 
> A laugh, hollowed. “You know, Gon…”
> 
> “Mm?”
> 
> “I’m also really, really dead.”

☽

“You know, Killua, you really are amazing.”

A laugh, hollowed. “You know, Gon…”

“Mm?”

“I’m also really, really dead.”

“Oh.” Gon remembers, now. He turns to face Killua, who smiles at him. The other boy is gossamer, a halo-shape in the light. “I…”

“You forgot?”

“No!” His voice sharpens. “I’d  _never_ …”

Gon trails off, at a loss.  _I’d never what?_  Killua sighs loudly, before sifting closer.

“What’re you up to?” he asks, tone gentle.

“Writing,” Gon says, too quickly. “I’m writing something for you.”

“Hm? What does it say?”

Gon gives him a suspicious glance; he brings his hand over the splay of paper.

“You have to wait and see.”

“I  _can’t_ see, idiot,“ he reminds him, almost casually. Like it’s nothing. "I can't—”

“ _You don't know that_ ,” Gon snaps, cutting him off. Killua stills, but does not flinch, and Gon feels the familiar threads of guilt, forming low in his gut. “You don’t know that,” he repeats, more gently. “Maybe Killua can still…maybe he can still hear me. Maybe he can still…”

 _Forgive me,_ Gon does not say.

The Killua beside him blinks, rainstorm eyes and lightning-lashes.  “Why’re you talking like that? Like I’m not…”

Gon looks away. The pen is heavy in his grasp, and it’s strange. Nothing has ever weighed heavily on Gon. Things have always come easy, been light. Like strength. Like Nen. Nen comes and goes within him, just like all the people navigating to and from his life. Ging: more gone than not. Kite: more here than there. Killua: a half-hearted goodbye, and then a permanent one, carved in stone. Alluka says he was miserable. Gon just wishes he knew how to say anything other than  _I’m sorry._

He stares at the blank sheet. Wonders why he is even bothering. There’s nothing he can say that will make Killua want to listen. Killua is stubborn.

 _Killua is also gone_.

“Gon,” says the voice. It’s Killua’s voice, his child-voice, from ages and ages ago. “Ne, Gon, stop ignoring me. I’m—”

“—sorry,” Gon murmurs. The apology is like glass in his throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m…”

Killua laughs, again. “Why are you apologizing? You’re being weird.”

“I’m sorry,” Gon says, again. More than anything, it’s a plea.

This time, no answer comes.


	4. the people you've been before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re looking at me strange,” Gon tells him, teasingly. They are sitting by the water, legs dangling from the dock. The hotel they’re staying at is in a seaside town.
> 
> Killua replies, easily, “It’s because I’m in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow the numbers to read the story in order!

5.

 The next morning, Gon finds Killua on the hotel-balcony. He stands in only his shorts, surrounded by a sheen of mist.

_He seems at peace._

Gon decides to linger for a few seconds in the doorway, before asking:

“You smoke now?”

Killua doesn’t turn to face him. He probably sensed Gon from the start.  

“Aa,” he says. It comes out a sigh, dark smoke curling into the sound. “You didn’t know?”

Gon shakes his head. From his periphery, Killua can see the other boy’s hesitance to take that last step toward him. Killua knows that hesitance, has lived it for half his life.  _How close is too close?_ It’s a balancing act of:  _I want to be near him,_ and  _I don’t want him to push me away._

But now Gon is on the tightrope and Killua has an open hand. For a moment, he flirts with the idea— _Come here, idiot. You’re too far away._

But Gon remains a ways off. Killua remains silent.

 

2.

“You’re looking at me strange,” Gon tells him, teasingly. They are sitting by the water, legs dangling from the dock. The hotel they’re staying at is in a seaside town.

Killua replies, easily, “It’s because I’m in love with you.”

“…Oh.” Gon’s ears go red.

“Mm,” Killua echoes.

A pause and then: “I love you, too, you know.”

“Oh.”

7.

“The stars won’t come out.”

Killua laughs, gesturing to the sky. “Are you blind? They’re right there.”

“They are, but they aren’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You smell like smoke,” Gon says. “The old Killua didn’t smell that way.”

Killua rolls his eyes. “You’re being over dramatic, idiot.”

“It’s bad for you.”

“A lot of things are bad for you. Sometimes you just have to take your pick.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Killua says. “Even after everything, I still picked you.”

“…Killua.”

“Mm?”

“Can I kiss you, again?”

4.

“Ugh, your shirt.”

“What?”

“It’s in the way.”

“I’ll take it off,” Gon murmurs. He bites at Killua’s neck, then trails back to his mouth, sucking the moan straight out of him. “I’ll take it off right—”

“Your skin,” Killua says, breathless. “It’s hot.”

Gon giggles, presses a kiss to Killua’s temple. “You’re being silly. Of course my skin is hot. We’re having—”

“Shut up,” Killua snaps. His nails dig into Gon’s back. “Don’t say it.”

“Okay, okay.”

There’s silence, for a bit, until Killua grumbles, “…mm’in the way.”

Gon: “What?”

“Your skin,” Killua says, quietly. “It’s in the way.”

“Hm?”

“Can we get any closer?”

6.

“Idiot, stop. I’m trying to sleep.”

“I don’t care,” Gon says. And he doesn’t. He leaves little, feather-lace kisses along Killua’s jaw, his cheek. The corner of his mouth tastes like ash. “I love you.”

“Do you?” Killua asks.

“I said it before,” Gon tells him, more firmly. “Do you not believe me?”

No answer.

Again, “Do you not believe me?”

“Gon…”

“I love you,” Gon repeats. “Killua, I—”

“I need a smoke.”

“Killua…”

“Can you let go of me?”

“Killua?”

“Please.”

3.

They go out to the town. Gon stares at Killua’s hand, for a while, and then at Killua.  _I want to touch him,_ Gon thinks.  _It’s been so long._

Killua is brighter than before, but also more subdued. It’s a strange mixture. But Gon doesn’t mind.

They’re passing by a stall of sweets when Killua stops to browse. Gon takes the opportunity to pry a coin from his pocket, pressing it into Killua’s palm.

“My treat!” he chirps, excitedly. “From me to you.”

Killua scoffs. He takes the coin, and drops it back into Gon’s hand.

“What—”

“Idiot,” Killua says, but it’s soft. “I didn’t want anything.”

“But you  _love_ sweets.”

Killua flicks him between the eyes. “I used to.”

“Used to?”

“Let’s just go back to the hotel.”

1.

“Hi,” Gon says.

“Hi,” says Killua.

“I missed you.”

“Aa. Me, too.”

“I’m really glad I got to see you, again. It’s been years…”

“Aa…”

“You’re beautiful.”

“A—what? What the hell are you saying?”

Gon grins. “I was just seeing if you were paying attention.”

“I was, obviously,” Killua huffs. “No need to say such stupid things.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s the truth.”

“…What?”

“C’mon,” Gon says. He looks ready to hold out his hand, but retracts the motion. Killua notices this. “Let’s go!”

Killua swallows, gazes a bit longingly, a bit ruefully at the shape of Gon’s back as he walks in front of him.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s go.”


	5. wanderlust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I meant—do you remember? The time before I knew your name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU where killua is taken in by gon + mito on whale island, at a young age.

i.

“Let’s go,” Gon says.

“To where?” asks Killua.

“Aa,” Gon singsongs. “Why don’t we wait to figure that out?”

ii.

They walk slowly.

“Do you remember?” asks Gon, after a length of quiet.

“Remember what?” Killua grunts, rolls his eyes. “You’re so vague. It’s annoying.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Gon says, not sounding sorry at all. “I meant—do you remember? The time before I knew your name.”

Killua, surprised, blinks once, twice. Then he lets out a bark of laughter.

“What the hell are you on?”

“On?” Gon questions, tilting his head. And Killua is reminded of how strange his best friend is. How much and how little he knows. “Killua, you didn’t even answer me.”

“Well, you weren’t asking anything worth answering,” Killua retorts. “You’ve known my name for as long as you’ve known me. And that—”

“—was a long time ago, ne?” Gon finishes. Killua’s lips part, but his throat closes. He does not know what to say. But Gon does. “When you first came to the island. You were really small.”

Killua smacks him on the arm. “Idiot. You were small, too—we were  _seven_!”

“Mm…” Gon hums, thoughtfully. “But that means, there was a time when I didn’t know you, or your name. There was a time when you didn’t know me, either. Do you remember?”

Killua pauses, thoughtful. The sunshine breathes along his back, and the wild, island-grass is warm beneath his bare feet.  Gon’s eyes are both heavy and light as they focus on him; even from his periphery, Gon’s profile is all Killua can see.

He says, quietly:

 “No,

I don’t.”

iii.

They end up camping by the river. When they sleep that night, in a tangle of blankets and firelight and dream- stories, Gon murmurs:

“Me, neither.”

iv.

“Where did you boys go last night?” Mito asks, in the morning.

Gon gives a sheepish grin when he walks inside. Killua, for the moment, does not follow. He is stiff, unsure, and remains planted in the doorway. It is always a bit difficult for him to make that last step, to breach through the transition from Outside to In.  _This is home,_ he tries to remind himself,  _this is where I belong, now._

But a part of him still does not believe it.

“Ne, Killua, what’re you doing?” chides Gon. He’s beaming. “Mito-san’s giving us a lecture about sneaking out to camp. You can’t hide from this one!”

Killua slips from his reverie, turning to face him.

“Oh,” he says, softly. He moves forward,  feels Mito’s stare following the step. He smiles weakly. “Sorry. I’m not gonna chicken out of it.”

His gaze darts wildly across the room until Mito’s eyes pull him in. She does not look away when she says:

“Just don’t do it again without telling me.” She sighs, and adds, meaningfully, “Welcome home, you two.”

Gon giggles. “It’s only been a night, though!  Right, Killua?”

A beat. Mito still has her eyes on his.

Killua affirms, almost silently: “…Right.”

v.

The days are long on Whale Island, and Gon always knows how to fill them. They fish by the seaside, collect shells from the sand. They go on treks through the forest, leaving marks on the trees; that way, they know when they come across someplace new.

 _Killua + Gon were here._ Killua uses rocks to carve into the bark. Sometimes, when Gon isn’t looking, he will use his nails. They’re sharp enough, after all. Like knives.

 _I am knives,_ Killua thinks.  _I am sharp and I am cruel and I am bad things._

But Gon does not understand. Gon praises him when he hunts wood-boars and earth-fox, when he trades pelts and furs for extra candy at the local shop. He is kind to him when he shouldn’t be. Laughs when Killua beats him in a video game. Smiles when Killua eats the last piece of chocolate, or sneaks a bite of Gon’s favorite ice cream.

Gon doesn’t get it. Gon says things like,  _We’re home,_ and asks things like  _Do you remember?_ And Killua does remember. He remembers his family. He remembers running away. He remembers blood and poison and chains and yet none of this compare to: sun-hair, summer-eyes. A bell-voice.

 _I’m home,_ Killua thinks, or at least he tries to.  _I’m home,_ Killua thinks, as he watches Gon stack dishes, as Mito doles out food onto their plates.  _I’m home, I’m home, I’m home._

_This is my home, now._

vi.

“Summer’s almost over,” Gon whispers. The moon gleams over the bottom half of his face. “We’ll have to start classes soon.”

“Eh,” Killua growls. “This sucks.”

“Ne, Killua, but you’re so smart.” Gon sounds wistful. “I wish I was as good at school as you.”

“Do you, really?” Killua blurts. “I’m not good at a lot of stuff, though.”

Gon jerks up. “That’s not true! Killua is good at  _everything_!”

Killua’s breath hitches, and he stammers, “E-everything?”

“Everything,” Gon repeats, proudly. Like he’s talking about _himself,_ the  _idiot._ “Killua is the best at schoolwork, the top at sports. He catches the scariest animals and fishes the prettiest fish. Killua is the best. I love Killua the best.”

Killua’s eyes widen. “L…love?”

“Love,” Gon echoes, shifting closer. “Killua…you. You’re part of home, you know? If you leave, I’d be really sad.”

“Who said I’m leaving?” Killua snaps.

“Your eyes,” Gon tells him. “Your face. You…you’ve always been that way. And that’s okay. If you want to go somewhere else. But…”

“…But what?”

“If you go,” Gon murmurs. “If you go somewhere…I want to come with you.”

Killua hisses, “ _What?”_

“It’d be an adventure,” Gon says, dreamily. “Like in the cartoons. We could travel the world together. We would have fun.”

“But…” Killua mumbles, at a loss. “What about home?”

Gon giggles. “This will always be home. For both of us. As long as you want it to be. And Killua—”

“Gon—”

“—will always be my home, too. Do you understand that?”

vii.

It takes a long while, but Killua is not lying when he finally answers: “Yes.”

viii.

“When will you two come back?” Mito-san asks. “You have  _lessons._ You can’t just–just  _leave–_ ”

“We’ll make them up!” Gon promises. “We just…we want to explore for a while. But we are going to come back soon! This is home, after all.”

Killua pipes up, “It is.”

Mito peers down at them, and Killua wonders if she sees someone else. But rather than frown, she  softens, right before she asks:

“Where are you going, then?”

Gon opens his mouth, but Killua is the one to say, with excitement:

“We’re going to wait to figure that out.”


	6. rima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You loved me, once,” Gon says. “Didn’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a happy ending + a sad ending !!! read closely for both :-D

“You loved me, once,” Gon says. “Didn’t you?”

Killua laughs, more breath than mirth. He does not blush, does not stammer. His smile is open, and it’s  _strange_ —it’s so strange, how this Killua is so unlike the boy that Gon had once known.

“Eh. Probably.”

“Probably,” Gon echoes, and it almost sounds sad. “That’s not very romantic, Killua.”

“Huh.” Killua turns away, eyes sifting over the quiet, lazy landscape of Whale Island. “I guess not.”

A beat passes. Gon peers down at his hands; they are bound into fists.  _Ah,_ he realizes.  _I deserve this._

“I’m sorry,” Gon tells him, in a murmur. “I’m sorry that I—”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Killua cuts him off, airily. “I’m not sorry about what I felt. You shouldn’t be sorry about what you felt, either.”

 _But I,_ Even in his head, Gon still cannot find the words.  _But I loved y—_

He does not say any of this. Instead, he swallows. From his periphery, he notes the slant of space between him and Killua. He is hyperaware of this rift, this absence—like the Nen-hollows in his veins, the empty spaces in his chest. His hands.  _Killua used to fit there,_

_and I ripped him away._

“I’m glad you came here,” Gon confesses. It’s as close as he can come to the truth. For how honest he used to be, he finds it jarring how easily he has taken to lies. “I missed you.”

“Aa,” Killua affirms. “I did, too.”

_(You’re lying, aren’t you?)_

Gon breathes in, out. Killua is silent. It shouldn’t be like this, Gon thinks. It shouldn’t be so empty. But it is. And it isn’t. The stars shine overhead, gleaming, knotted with old promises.  _Let’s stay together._

 _Let’s stay together, ne?_  

And Gon doesn’t realize he’s spoken aloud until Killua answers:

“No.”


	7. if i were another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And sometimes, when they are alone, Gon will try to map him, like he is veined with water rather than blood. But Killua, if anything, will always be of blood– of death and dark and rot– so, when Gon asks, with his hands over his, “Ne, where did this scar come from?”, Killua has to look away, has to swallow back his lungs to answer, “Training” and then “It’s really nothing,” like neither is code or craft for, “I got it when I killed someone.”
> 
>  
> 
> _I deserved it, because I killed someone._

And sometimes, when they are alone, Gon will try to map him, like he is veined with water rather than blood. But Killua, if anything, will always be of blood–  _of_ _death and dark and rot–_  so, when Gon asks, with his hands over his, “ _Ne, where did this scar come from?_ ”, Killua has to look away, has to swallow back his lungs to answer, “Training” and then “It’s really nothing,” like neither is code or craft for, “ _I got it when I killed someone._ ”

_I deserved it, because I killed someone._

- 

 

And Gon believes him, says,  _Wow,_ with awe in his voice, like he is seeing songs and stars rather than skin. Killua follows Gon’s gaze along his scarred arms, feels so sick that he nearly confesses,  _That was the second time I killed a man._

His eyes shift to his wrists.  _That time was a woman._

The crook of his elbow.  _That one was child. A little girl. I think I was younger than her when I did it._

Gon is achingly gentle when he brushes along the bone of Killua’s shoulder— _that time was a boy, that time was a_ boy—and Killua bites back bile, because it just doesn’t  _fit._ Nothing fits. Nothing about him or this or,  _or_ —

“Your skin is so nice,” Gon tells him. And Killua thinks, before everything else:

  _Liar._

 Liar _–_

_I’ve killed so many people._ _I can’t keep count, I killed so many people. I hate it._ _I hate my hands I hate my skin I hate the old blood in my nails I hate it all and I hate you and I hate that that’s a lie and_

_I hate that I’ve taken so so so many lives and I hate that—_

_—for you, I’d do it all again._

Gon would probably hate  _him_ , if he said that part aloud. Gon doesn’t know how to take a life– he could never even  _fathom_  it. Killua hopes that never changes.

( _It’s t_ _oo late,_ a voice says, in Killua’s head,  _he’s already taken yours._ )

Killua ignores the thrum of doubt. 

_It’s only because I gave it to him._

It’s not like Gon knows this. But it’s not like he doesn’t, either. Gon notices a lot more than anyone gives him credit for–

“Say, Killua?”

As if reading his thoughts, Gon pauses in his movements. Yet his touch still lingers, like Killua is something new and exciting to explore, like he isn’t just a thief, a scar-spatter of stolen lives. Gon repeats, “Killua?” and Killua answers, “Gon,” and that’s all, for a while—just skin-on-skin and silence.

Killua wishes he could memorize this quiet—full and warm and soft—to save for the quiets that are to come. For the times he won’t be with Gon, for the times when silence will be the only voice he knows. Because this can’t last. His hand shakes within Gon’s grasp. This can’t last. His scars are showing. Everything is open and wrong and Gon is going to find his Dad, and Killua is going to find what he wants, right?  _Right?_  But what right does he have to  _want,_ what can a killer want?

 _You know what you want,_ the same voice says, when Killua stares up at Gon.  _You know exactly what you want._

_But you know you are not supposed to._

Killua shivers, and Gon’s fingers lace through his.

“Are you cold?” he asks him.

“I’m fine,” Killua lies.

“Aa,” Gon says. His thumb presses along the old, worn, splay of skin over Killua’s knuckles. “Does that hurt?” he asks, when Killua trembles.

 _It did, once,_ Killua does not tell him.  _It did, until it didn’t._

_I hope you never have to know that._

“I’m fine,” Killua lies, again.

Gon beams at him, before shifting closer. “I’m glad.”

 _Me too,_ Killua thinks, to himself.  _Me, too._

And he almost believes it.


	8. countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pitou is silent as it dies. its soul is an ugly thing of loyalty and rot and gon’s fists make rocks and knives but it isn’t enough, it isn’t enough. kite is a jailbird of glass, a deadweight marionette and it shouldn’t have been him. it should have been—
> 
>  
> 
> _“gon—”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reverse-chronological order !! :*

**5.**

when gon stops breathing,

No One is surprised.

**4.**

when leorio and kurapika come to see him,

gon wishes he could just

Disappear.

"it wasn’t your fault,” leorio says.

_i killed him i killed him i killed him_

“it was,” gon says.

_you killed him you killed him you killed him_

“it wasn’t,” kurapika says.

_jan ken gon jan ken gon JAN KEN GON_

“it was,” gon repeats;

his voice is dead.

_you killed THEM._

**3.**

when gon looks at his hands, he feels 

sick.

he Hates his hands. in another life, with another boy, at a time when gon deserved more than dirt and dust, he would wonder: is this how killua felt? when he looked at his hands? killua’s hands had killed, too, once upon a time.

but they were always beautiful. pale and soft and gentle. always gentle, with gon.

gon looks at his hands, swallows back bile.

gon hates his hands. 

_he Hates them._

**2.**

when gon wakes, his first question is:

“where is killua?”

**1.**

when gon sees the Ant, he sees  _red_ — the scarlet spill of kite’s arm, the nen-scars of his skin. 

a corpse splayed out in the shape of a name:

 _neferpitou._ mur-der-er:  _you will pay in bones and breaks and blood. i will paint the earth blue with your veins—_

 _(_ gon dreams in black and bruises, awakens now with the crack of chimera-ribs, the snap-song of dead lungs.)

_die, die, die, Die, DIE—_

—he’s already dead, i’m sorry.

kite is dead. is dead. is  _dead_. 

kite is dead. 

KITE _IS_ DEAD—

“you  _killed_ him,” gon snarls, “you killed him, you killed him,  _you killed him_ —”

 _i killed him,_ gon’s mind murmurs.  _i killed him, i killed him,_ IKILLEDHIM.

pitou is silent as it dies. its soul is an ugly thing of loyalty and rot and gon’s fists make rocks and knives but it isn’t enough,  _it isn’t enough._ kite is a jailbird of glass, a deadweight marionette and it shouldn’t have been  _him_. it should have been—

“ _gon—”_  

says

a voice. 

a boy-voice, small and lightning-thin. gon has always been thunder, claps of anger, spined with rage. gon has always been gold but now he is a ghost and the dead do not come back to life, kite is dead, kite is dead, and gon killed him.

gon  _killed_ him.

“ _Gon_ —!”

the small voice grows and grows but gon has gone deaf and blind to all but the monster at his feet. in a universe remote from gon and pitou and the blood between them, there is a boy (there was  _always_ a boy, gon will remember, gon will regret) of white, draped in light,  _gon’s_ light. the light pours like sun from the cracks of his hand— a galaxy shifting from a spider-web of skin.

 _i don’t care if i lose everything, i don’t care if i lose everything, i don’t care, I Don’t Care, I DON’T CARE_ —

“ _jan, ken—”_

_"—GON!”_


	9. windchimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Killua,” he says— more air than sound. “Can I say your name like that?”
> 
>  
> 
> _Like it’s mine?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school AU

“Ugh,” Killua groans. “This was a dumb idea.”

“Eh?” Gon quirks his head, unwrapping the pale cloth from his bento. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s cold.” Killua whines. His words come out in turns of mist, sifting along the rooftop. “Who even comes up here in the winter?”

Gon laughs. “It’s barely even December, Kil-lu-a.”

“That’s still winter, i-di-ot.” Killua grimaces as another curl of wind blows past. Huffing, he finishes off the last of his candies ( _He’s always had such a sweet-tooth)_  before bending his knees to his chest.

“And don’t say my name like that.”

Gon pauses, mid-bite. “Like what?”

“Like it’s—” Killua looks away, and Gon’s gaze roams the catches of red in his skin. “All…song-ish.”

Teasingly: “Why not?”

“B-because…” Killua mumbles a curse, low in his throat. He seems somewhat on edge, toying with the empty glimmer of a candy-wrapper. “I…I shouldn’t have to explain that to you!”

And Gon thinks,  _Ah._

_Killua has never been good at hiding._

Gon sets down his lunch and scoots closer to him, ignoring the traces of roof-dust and snow that scatter along his pants and jacket. Killua glances at him without moving his face or neck; Gon just smiles soothingly, before asking:

“How’s this?”

“How’s what?” Killua snaps. Or, he tries to. His voice is too soft for it— _Killua_ is too soft for it, even when he tries not to be.

It’s always been that way, Gon decides.

A lilt of fondness spells through him as Killua starts to relax, unwinding like water. The noon, winter-sun gleams overhead, and it’s almost like a moment stolen from a storybook when Gon shifts even closer, Killua’s breath hitching as their knees touch—

“ _K_ illua,” he says— more air than sound. “Can I say your name like that?”

 _Like it’s_  mine?

There is a second where Killua is completely still. Nerve-silent.

 And then—

“Ow!”

 —he flicks him between the eyes.

“Idiot,” Killua murmurs, pulling his hand back. “What’re you even talking about? Huh?”

Gon rubs his forehead, whimpering, “You didn’t have to do that!”

“I  _did_ ,” Killua counters, but he does not move away.

_He doesn’t move away._

Oh.

Slowly, then, as if just realizing something important, Gon drops his hand, lets it fall to the small, seam of space between him and Killua. If Killua notices, he says nothing of it; in fact, after a moment, his hand almost seems to follow. And it is tentative, hesitant—still only a moment, really. But Gon feels as if an entire life is shaped in that bare, crescent of time.

(He lets out a long breath when he feels cool skin map against his own; the touch is quiet, gossamer, like Killua is afraid to make a mark on him.

_Don’t say my name like that!_

_I shouldn’t have to explain that to you!_ )

Again, Gon thinks: _Oh._

Gently, he asks, “Are you still cold?”

His dips his eyes to Killua, studying his expression while he—carefully,  _carefully_ — twines their fingers together, like skin and bone anchors. There is a hum of quiet, and then:

“…No.”

Killua’s grip goes tight. His face is streaked with red, but all Gon notices is: blue. The gentle glint to his eyes. The easy slant of his smile,

and the confession of, “I’m not.”


	10. ardor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy is tall. Which isn’t really an issue in and of itself. But. Well. What with the way he is tapering over Killua, all seamless and graceful–that. That is where Gon finds the issue.

The boy is tall. Which isn’t really an issue in and of itself. But. Well. What with the way he is tapering over Killua, all seamless and graceful–that.  _That_ is where Gon finds the issue.  

Irritated, he barely stifles a grunt as the conversation wades on:

“So, my parents trained me using  _spark-rocks_ —”

“No way!” Killua grins, a scrape of lightning flickering from his fingertip. “Mine were more fond of the electric shock.”

“Yikes,” the boy— _Jin? Rin? Gon doesn’t_ care—says. He’d introduced himself earlier, when Gon and Killua had first noticed him at the city-fair, shaping fireworks in his palm. “Must’ve hurt like a bitch.”

“Well, fire’s pretty bad, too—”

 _“_ Ki-ll-u- _a,_ ” Gon interrupts. He swallows his annoyance, slipping his fingers through Killua’s— _gently,_  at first. But Killua yanks his hand away in an instant, face dusted red when he snaps:

“ _What_?”

Gon feels his eyes dim; Killua seems to notice this, but he’s smiling, again, before he can mention anything of it.

 “Ne, Killua,” he whines. “I’m hungry.”

Killua scoffs, “We just  _ate,”_ but it’s mostly fond. This time, when Gon clasps Killua’s wrist, he lets him. “What are you, a kid?”

“Sure,” Gon agrees. Idly, he traces skin-shadows around Killua’s wrist, right along the pulse. Killua twitches at the touch, and Jin/Rin clears his throat.

“You’re Gon, right? Gon Freecss?” he asks. He has a smiling sort of face—dimpled and friendly—and Gon  _knows_ he means no harm, but  _still._ Unconsciously, his grip on Killua tightens.

“Yup,” he answers, curtly.  _Rude,_ chides a voice in his mind. It sounds like Mito-san, and Gon ignores it. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“Jin.”  _Almost got it right._ “I’ve heard about you, before. You’re Ging Freecss’ son?”

Gon parts his lips, unsure of just what he’s about to say, when Killua interjects, “Yeah, he is.” Gon blinks as he goes on, “When we were younger, we even traveled around the world to find him.”

“Did you?” Jin asks, sounding so genuine that Gon almost feels guilty for being so petty.  _Almost._

“Mm,” Killua responds, softly.  _Tenderly._  “It was fun.”

Fun. Gon is caught between a laugh and a cry, but in the end, chooses neither.  _It means nothing to you, if we stay here any longer._  His heart tilts, and then his hand follows; he laces it into Killua’s, twining their fingers by the bones.

“So, you’ve known each other for a while?” Jin asks, rather than states. Gon doesn’t miss the pitch of disappointment in his voice, nor the way he stares at their linked hands; he  _knows_ it’s childish, but it makes him feel  _triumphant._ Like he’s  _won,_ somehow.

(But… Killua would probably pinch or smack him if he  _ever_  admitted to that.)

“We have,” Gon says, before Killua can. “We’ve  _always_  been together.”

_No matter where we go, we’ll always be—_

“Do you have to  _say_ it like that?” Killua groans, flushing in embarrassment.

Gon almost says,  _Yes, I do,_ but just manages to bite it back. Jin goes on to say something about his own travels, and when Killua beams at him, Gon  _pulls._

“Killua,” he says, not quite so gently. “We have to go.”

“Huh? No, we—”

“It really was nice meeting you, Jin!” Gon calls out; he drags Killua forward, his grasp hard enough to leave a bruise, and adds,  “Sorry, but something came up!”

Killua jerks his arm back, hisses, “ _Wait_  a second!”

Gon simply murmurs, “No.”

Killua stills. They both know that he is the stronger one, between the two of them; it’s been that way since the start. But Killua relents, like he always has; his movements cease, and he is pliant as Gon guides him through the maze of stalls and bazaar-stands. Gon leads him to the edge of the townscape, right beneath the low-hanging roof of an old building. He is not the first to break the tense silence.

“What the  _hell,_ ” Killua starts. “Was that about?”

Gon’s hands shift like ghosts as they come to rest on the other boy’s shoulders. Killua stammers out, “W-what—” and Gon grits out, “I’m sorry,” and then,

He kisses him. Gon kisses Killua, all tongue and teeth as he breathes in from his mouth, gasping in the air straight from Killua’s throat. Killua softens against him, melts into something boneless as he tilts back his head, letting Gon push  _deeper_ and  _harder_ and Gon thinks,  _I love you,_ as he licks against Killua’s bottom lip. Gon thinks,  _I_   _want you,_ as he winds his arms around Killua’s waist.

Against his lips, Killua mumbles, “You want  _what_?”

His tone is heavy and dreamlike—as though he wasn’t squirming and struggling a moment ago. Gon almost blushes— _I said that out_ loud?—but he’s never been one for dishonesty. And neither is Killua. Perhaps in his words, sometimes, but as Gon looks at him now, all scarlet-skin and bedroom-eyes, he thinks: _Honest._ And then he thinks:  _Mine._

“ _You,_ ” he answers, dipping in for another kiss.

Killua is already closing his eyes–


	11. answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You left,_ no one says. No one had said anything at all. All it took was a moment, a glance. And then a hand made a fist and another flickered with Nen, and there were no thoughts of talking after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3-4 years after chimeras

Gon hesitates, and before he can even blink, Killua is on top of him. It’s a familiar position; his body relaxes by muscle-memory, despite the gravity of the situation. Killua is leaning in so close that Gon can see his own face in the other boy’s eyes. He can even taste the blood in Killua’s breath; it is sharp and lingering, but nothing compared to the  _want._

Behind the rage, beneath the glare, and beyond the blame, the yearning blares—in every point and angle of Killua’s face. Through Killua’s mirror-gaze, Gon sees it on his  _own_ face, and it’s overwhelming—the closeness, after all this time apart. The spite— hard and cold with years of wait.

 _You left,_ no one says. No one had said anything at all. All it took was a moment, a glance. And then a hand made a fist and another flickered with Nen, and there were no thoughts of  _talking_ after that.

Gon’s throat burns when Killua presses against him, all boneless and languid as he brings up a hand. Almost absently, his nails prick tiny, blood-moons right beneath Gon’s jaw, before brushing along his neck, the touch both gentle and not.

 _You left,_ no one says.

Killua draws his hand back, the realization settling in his eyes. His claws recede, and Gon grasps at his wrist before he can pull away. Wordlessly, he twines their fingers together, and Killua’s face hardens into something stone-set.

“You—”

Gon cranes his neck, lets out a small, slip of a plea. He doesn’t really mean to say anything, doesn’t mean to make a sound. But the name had been waiting in his lungs, and when he breathes out, it escapes him like a ghost. “ _Killua,_ ” Gon murmurs. And then he leans up.

Killua’s hand drops from his, but his lips do not. The kiss is strangely soft, for all the bitterness behind it. It takes a few beats before either boy is able to register what is happening; by then, Gon is overcome with an odd, heady feeling—like he’s sit up too fast, or run for too long. But he’s still lying down, with Killua propped against him, pliant with the motions, even as Gon’s hands come up to rest behind the nape of his neck.

And then Killua manages the word, “Why,” dry against Gon’s mouth. Killua  shifts back with the question, heavy-lidded— _lost;_ Gon pulls him back down for another kiss, but Killua does not— _cannot—_ stop there.

“… _Why?_ ” Kiss. “Why did you—” Lips, teeth, salt. Kiss. 

“— _Leave_?”


	12. even me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Friends don’t use friends. Or let them get hurt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set after the dodgeball match on Greed Island!

“Does it hurt?”

Killua blinks as Gon folds onto the grass beside him, filling the empty space with gold and green. He sits still and cross-legged, which is strange enough to begin with. What is even  _stranger_  is the anagram-look in his eyes as his gaze flits to Killua’s bandaged fists. Gon’s stare drums at Killua’s lungs, weaves a brittle mix of nerves and wonder through his chest.

“No,” he lies, and Gon’s eyes go hard. “A little,” he amends, and Gon’s eyes go harder. 

At first, Gon doesn’t say anything. He seems to drink in the quiet, and when he opens his mouth, he lets it escapes as: 

 “I’m sorry.”

Killua wishes he wouldn’t say that. As Gon goes on with, “It’s my fault,” he wishes even more that he would just  _shut up._

“I shouldn’t have let you—”  _Don’t say it, don’t finish that sentence, don’t breathe another word._ “—risk yourself, like that.”

 _You’re wrong,_ Killua cannot say. His palms blare, storms wandering beneath the skin.  _I did it because I wanted to. Because you trusted me._

“It’s not your fault,” Killua tells him, instead.

“It is,” Gon argues, and Killua doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination, but the other boy seems to be leaning closer. “Just because I want something, it doesn’t mean I can just…”

Gon trails off, his gaze sifting elsewhere, and Killua finds himself staring. Gon has a summer-face, a child’s profile. He’ll grow up one day, and he will be strong.

_He does not have to grow up now._

Killua says, “Gon, it’s nothing.”

And then Gon moves, quick as the lightning Killua toys with like water. His hands don’t feel so young as they cradle Killua’s broken ones; there is a heartbeat in the touch, gentle as a dream, gentler than anything or anyone Killua has ever known.

“This,” Gon says, cupping his hands into his, “isn’t nothing.”

Killua’s eyesight blurs, only for a second; his eyes flutter open, then shut, the tears seeping into his lashes.  _How weak,_ his mind sneers,  _how pathetic._  “I’ll be fine. Seriously. I’ve been through worse.”

Gon’s hold tightens for a split-moment, before he seems to think better of it. His grip softens, yet is still firm when he says, “But I’m your friend.”

Killua balks. “That’s—”

“Friends don’t use friends. Or let them get hurt.”

There are a million things Killua can say to that, but all he can manage is: “You…”

It doesn’t even touch what he wants to tell him, doesn’t reach any deeper than his throat.

 _You weren’t using me,_ he longs to say. _I was helping you. I helped you_ because _you’re my friend. Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t…_

But there is only silence. For how loud Gon usually is, he remains achingly quiet. In a small, tender motion, he lifts Killua’s wrapped hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the bruised map of skin.

“Killua,” he says, into his hands. “Don’t let anyone hurt you, again…”

Before Killua can say anything in retort, before Gon shifts away, before time lets itself move again, Gon adds, in a lilt above a whisper:

“…Even me.”


	13. firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Say, Killua.”
> 
> Nervously, “Mm?”
> 
> Gon’s eyebrows furrow. “Have you…never… gotten a kiss before?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gender-bending aa

“Ne, Killua,” Gon singsongs. “Your hair’s getting long!”

Killua blushes; the tips of her ears and the slope of her neck are etched with red. Gon is twirling a long strand of silver-white hair between her fingers, studying it like it’s a gem, or maybe a star, and Killua feels her breath catch.

“Is it?” she manages, at length. Her voice is dry and a little heavy. “I guess I haven’t had time to cut it.”

“Eh? Don’t do that,” Gon whines. “It’s cute like this.”

“ _Cute,_ ” Killua chokes, because does Gon have  _no_ boundaries? Sure, she grew up on a faraway, dream-place island with like— _no supervision_ —but seriously? Gon has to know that you can’t just  _call_ people cute and kiss their hair and  _wait—What?_

“What…what are you doing?” 

Gon pulls her lips back from Killua’s temple. “You looked sort of upset. Mito-san always used give me hugs and kisses whenever I was feeling down!”

“Oh…” Killua murmurs, her shoulders slumping. The soft, press of a kiss echoes along her skin. “Oh.”

“You didn’t like it?” Gon asks, her pout dipping into something more serious. “I—”

“No,” Killua interrupts. She hates how small and childlike she sounds when she mumbles, “I—um. It was nice.”

She expects Gon’s expression to brighten, but that deep, thoughtful look remains.

“Say, Killua.”

Nervously, “Mm?”

Gon’s eyebrows furrow. “Have you…never… gotten a kiss before?”

Killua stiffens. She tries to laugh a bit, but it comes out too brittle. “Um. Well, it’s just…you know. My family…”

 _My family_ what? Gon’s already seen everything. Gon already knows. And she’s still  _here,_ after all of that, and Killua—

Before she can finish the thought, the phrase, she feels wiry, fairy-arms curl around her shoulders, knocking her over into the grass. There is the pulse of another heart against her own and Killua moves on impulse, wrapping herself around Gon by muscle-memory.

“…Gon?”

“It makes me angry,” Gon mumbles, into her neck. “What your family did to you.”

Silence. Killua shivers as Gon sits up, pulling her along with the movement. Warm hands cup her cold cheeks, and Gon goes on:

“I won’t forgive them for what they did.” A determined look gleams over her features. “And I’m gonna give you all the kisses and all the hugs in the world! So then you can’t say you’ve never got them, before! Got it?”

Killua just  _stares,_ her jaw slack, completely at a loss. Who  _is_ Gon, really? Can she really be real? Could Killua really have been so lucky, to have met someone like her, by chance? Does she really  _deserve_ —

She feels a soft peck on her cheek, and Gon whispers: “Don’t overthink it! Okay?”

Killua blinks out of her reverie, her eyes slowly rising to meet Gon’s. They’re full of light, practically glimmering, and Killua is caught between wanting to cry and laugh and maybe even hide.

But she does none of these things.

Instead, she smiles, and says, with her chest feeling light:

 “Okay.”


	14. if they can bear the longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are ghosts in Gon’s eyes where the light doesn’t reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my own little plot-bunny HC, where if something ever happened to killua, gon+alluka would travel together.

There are ghosts in Gon’s eyes where the light doesn’t reach. Alluka decides this when they first start traveling together, but all it takes is a day to reconcile this thought. In Gon’s eyes, there is only one ghost, one slant of a memory– white-haired and blue-eyed with a quiet, moon-face. Alluka knows that face very well; it had been the face of all her dreams, after all. 

Alluka, however, does not dream anymore.

Gon doesn’t seem to, either. In actuality, Alluka has never once seen Gon sleep, not in all the months she’s spent with him. He brushes off her concern with a hollow smile, a tilt of his head.  _I’m not tired, Alluka-chan,_ he says, gently.  _Please get some sleep, I’ll keep watch._

Months become years, and years are heavy on children as young as they. It all begins with a tomb of white set between them. A rift, ever-present, bone-tiring, even now. Alluka remembers her brother as the sky and stars and she knows– _she knows–_ Gon remembers him both as something else entirely and as something exactly the same.

Alluka also knows better than to ask or pry.

What Alluka  _does_ not know is: the shape of Gon’s smile, the sound of a laugh in his throat. Her brother would often recount these happenings with a lace of yearning, a touch of want. Alluka had never understood that want, doubts she ever will. 

But when she looks into Gon’s eyes, she sees something like it.

She also sees the guilt, the regret:  _he tried to choose between us, but he could_  not.  _And that is why we’re here._ There is sometimes blame, and Alluka is not blind to it. Alluka is not naive to it, either, and knows the feeling well. Sometimes she glances to Gon and feels her bones rattle, her heart quake, because he is not Killua, and she is not Killua, and no one will ever match him or replace him, no amount of anything will ever breach the rift or fill the emptiness, the soul-wide space he’s left behind.

But sometimes they try. Sometimes she reaches over, her pale, moon-milk hand draping over Gon’s, feather-light with the touch. And sometimes Gon squeezes back, an anchor of bones and skin and  _life,_ a life Alluka has saved, a life  _Killua_ had saved, just like her own.

And those are the times that they are together in their aloneness, or perhaps not alone at all, perhaps more than a boy, a girl, a ghost between them.

But Gon still has ghosts in his eyes. And so does Alluka.

She reckons they always will.


	15. belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Gon wonders if Killua really forgives him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> future-fic

i.

Sometimes, Gon wonders if Killua really forgives him.

The fear lingers. And Gon, in all his years, has never been good with fear— he’s always kept it bottled like oceans in glass, until everything would come to break. Words like  _fear_ and  _sorrow,_  after all,are too heavy for a boy to bear alone; children are always frailer than they think.

But Gon isn’t really a child, anymore; he hasn’t been for a long, long time. So he says nothing.

Yet he still  _wonders._

And  _Killua_ —

Killua lets him trace constellations along his hair and skin, until one day the stars stop falling from his hands and start to shape from his lips _._ And while Killua still looks content, still looks happy, Gon doesn’t know if _content_  and  _happy_  are enough, doesn’t know how to give Killua more than that.  _If_  Killua wants more than that.

But he knows that he  _deserves_ more.

(Gon does not know, however, if he deserves Killua’s forgiveness.)

ii.

Killua wonders if one day Gon will disappear.

He finds himself touching Gon a lot more, now. Simple touches—to his hand, his wrist, his shoulder. The other boy has always been the bold one, after all.

And Killua, after everything they’ve been through, is still  _Killua._ Tentative and unsure with affection. More quiet than he should be.

He’s  _trying,_ though. He’s trying to make this work. And somewhere in his bones, or maybe even deeper, he thinks it just  _might,_ and then he catches himself trailing along the pulse at Gon’s throat, his chest, afraid that one day the sound will be foreign to him. That one day Gon will up and leave and vanish and collect hunter-stars and fame and leave Killua behind, again. Again.

_Again._

Gon’s back frightens him, somewhat. Gon’s back reminds him of walls, of doors, of locks he cannot pick.

(And Killua wonders if someday he might disappear.)

_Again._

iii.

Killua’s eyes are searching things—pale and deep and sometimes dark. Gon tells him one day that they are beautiful. He calls them  _seeing oceans_ , and Killua scoffs at that.

They travel the world together, again. It’s been many years since the Ants; they have an entire universe to see.

But Killua’s eyes are always, always searching  _him._

Gon isn’t sure of when he notices it. But it makes him feel light and heavy all at once—as if Killua’s gaze can trickle deeper than skin. But Gon isn’t sure of what Killua wants ( _he wants to be, though, he wants to be sure)_ until Killua asks him, one day beneath the covers:

_What is this?_

Their foreheads are touching, and their hands are curled around each other. Vaguely, he feels the bones of Killua’s ankles skimming his legs.

Gon laughs.  _It’s me and Killua._

Killua doesn’t.  _I know that. But what—_

( _His eyes are searching, again. Searching, searching, searching,_ and Gon doesn’t know. Gon doesn’t know what to give him, what he needs to find.)

_—is this?_ _What are we?_

_What am I to you?_

Gon does not laugh after that.

(He does not have an answer, either.)

iv.

Killua has never been soft or folly-like. He’s never believed in much.

But sometimes, he remembers catching small moments,  _simple moments,_ between his mother and father. Wrists bumping, eyes lingering. Quiet things. The Zoldycks have always walked the tightrope between utter silence and unbearable sound.

But sometimes, his parents would look to each other as if there was only life between them, despite the blood and death on their hands. They would look to each other and share small, crescent smiles. A touch, a whisper. And Killua would think, that maybe,  _just maybe,_ things like  _fate_ and  _love_ came to this world aligned. That maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t cruel enough to pry them apart.

He thinks the same when he meets Gon—all sunshine and innocence. He thinks the same after he gets to know Gon—down to the most lightless parts of him. He thinks the same after he and Gon part, after he and Gon reunite, again.

But sometimes he doesn’t. _Sometimes_. Like when Gon stares up at the sky as if he has a home there, up in a place where Killua can’t reach. When Gon seems to be drowning in guilt. When Killua has questions and Gon has no answers to give, when Killua hides and Gon is unable to seek.

( _Sometimes he doesn’t._ )

Gon sits across from him now, twining his fingers through Killua’s hair. He giggles at Killua’s small whine when he catches through a moon-knot. Rather than pull his hand away, he sets it against Killua’s temple, and presses a kiss along the part of his hair.

Killua stills, and Gon murmurs, “I love you,” against the white line of skin.

His mind blanks, but the words and touch do not escape him, and Killua, for all that he is, does not— _cannot—_  hide his smile.

In a mumble: “Me too, idiot.”

Gon beams down at him, and—

_(And sometimes he does.)_

—it is enough.


	16. say anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know how,” Killua admits, “to explain. To explain things about…what I think. Or…feel. It’s like a knot. And as soon as I see you—”
> 
> (Gon shivers beside him)
> 
> “—it’s like it all comes undone.”

“Say anything,” Gon tells him. “Anything you like.”

Killua stares—a graceless habit he’s yet to shake.

Then again, he could say the same about Gon. To Killua he is a hundred people, a thousand thoughts— but at the bones, he is still only a boy. A boy he can’t quite shake off, a boy who has struck deep, like a second skin. A second soul.

But a boy nonetheless.

 

When he brings Alluka to visit Whale Island, he does not expect Gon to be there. Gon’s emails and pictures end as soon as they come, and while Killua thinks of him often, he does not once think of this possibility. When he pictures Gon, he pictures not only a person, but a place. A place of crossroads, where Killua will turn back into the world, and Gon will wind out of it, like a constellation of wants and stars and yearnings, finding their way back home.

And yet. Here they are, with a year rifted between them, heavy with all of the unsaid.  _I’ll make you apologize. I’ll take this one on my own. It means nothing to you._

And  _yet._ Gon’s nen is gone. Despite himself, Killua feels part of the loss as his own. But Gon laughs it off as he always does, with his summery mirth and quiet smiles.

(And whenever Killua looks to him, Gon’s eyes are warm and gentle. They are  _so_ gentle _,_ Killua thinks, they are  _too gentle_  for how hard and hollow they have been.

_It means nothing to you_

_I mean nothing to you.)_

Alluka and Mito-san click instantly. Mito-san teaches her how to braid hair and bake sweets and Alluka looks ready to cry with joy when Killua tucks her in later in the evening.

 _I like it here,_ she says, in a murmur,  _I really, really like it here._

Killua’s gaze lingers on the door to Gon’s bedroom.  _Me, too._

The two boys step around each other for the rest of the night—all awkward glances and leaden silences— until Gon breaks the (childish) embargo at midnight. He whispers,  _Let’s go to the forest,_ and Killua whispers back,  _Okay._

They say nothing as they trail through starry grass and moon-draped trees, and Killua can’t help but notice how frail everything between them has become. He feels as if one misstep will send them shattering.

_Or, maybe—_

“Say anything,” Gon repeats. He turns to Killua, and there is strength in the coil of movement, despite it being barren of any nen. “Because I’ll listen to whatever you say.”

Killua’s fists clench.

“You..”

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Gon breathes, and when he takes a step forward, Killua automatically roots in place.  _I can’t move away from him, even if I wanted to._ “Killua, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I never listened before. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I left you behind– _it hurts._ I know that. But I did it anyway. And I’m so, so—”

“Don’t,” Killua pleads, surprising himself. His voice sounds so glassy, so fragile. So unlike his own. “Just… don’t. Don’t do this. Please. It’s in the past, okay?”

  _Don’t do this don’t do this don’t don’t don’t–_

“But it  _isn’t_!” Gon presses, taking another one of his broken steps. He seems so very small, under the moon. As if he’s aged backwards, and a hundred years, all at once. “Killua. I never meant to…I never could’ve  _thought_ I could…and…you left…and…I didn’t have the chance…”

“ _I left?_ ” Killua snarls.  _How dare he_.  _How_ dare  _he._ “You think—you think I left because I wanted to? You think…what  _do_ you think?”

“I don’t  _know_!” Gon cries out, and it’s enough to make Killua go still. Gon’s eyes, now, are no longer gentle. They are not empty, either. But they are lost. “Killua, I  _don’t know._ But if you tell me something— _anything_ —I can fix it. I’ll try to. I’ll spend the rest of my life doing it if I have to.”

The promise tangles in with the starlight.  

“That’s,” Killua says, his voice sharp in his throat, “a waste of a life.”

 Gon does not wince, or recoil, and Killua only feels a thread of guilt.

  _You’ve always thrown around your life like it was nothing. And left me to clean it up. And you never, ever, ever learn—_

“Killua,” a voice interrupts.  _His_ voice. It holds him like an anchor.

“Please, Killua.”  _He says his name so tenderly. “_ Please say something. I don’t know how to fix it if you don’t tell me.  _Please_  tell me.”

Gon’s hands are trembling, and so is Killua’s voice when he croaks:

“I don’t know how to.”

 “Killua…?”

“I don’t,” he repeats, “know how.”

 “You don’t know how to what?”

_I don’t know how to avoid you. I don’t know how to hate you. I don’t know how to love you. I don’t know anything when it comes to you._

Killua is always silent when it matters. Killua always runs when it matters. Killua always hides when it matters. Killua doesn’t know how to face things, and he’s never had to.

But Gon changed all of that.

And he is not light. Killua knows that now. He is not anything more or less than the broken boy sitting on the patch of grass beside him, folded into himself, just as Killua is, now.

“I don’t know how,” Killua admits, “to explain. To explain things about…what I think. Or…feel. It’s like a knot. And as soon as I see you—”

(Gon shivers beside him)

“—it’s like it all comes undone.”

A pause.

“Is it bad undone, or good undone?”

Killua flushes. And Gon adds:

“You can say anything.” His fingers come to brush over Killua’s. The touch is fleeting, but the meaning isn’t. “I’m listening. I’ll listen for as long as it takes.”

Killua has seen Gon die. Killua has seen Gon brought back to life. Killua has seen Gon cruel and Gon kind and Gon in every shape and world he’s come from, and yet he has never seen him like this. Bone-like and fragile, but not weak. Broken along the edges, but not shattered. And in Gon’s eyes Killua sees himself like he never has: starlike and ethereal and smoothed and gentle. Not a shadow, but a soul. A person.

A person, loved.

Killua feels the heat in his throat, the corners of his eyes.  _Crying at age fifteen. What a child._

But Gon does not say a word. And Killua understands. The knot in his heart begins to untether, and he breathes in, and then out, tasting the air as something sweet for the first time in a long time.

_Say anything._

And Killua starts:

“I—”


	17. first dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not laughing!” Gon blatantly lies to his face, around a fit of laughter. “It’s just—this. This is pretty funny.”
> 
> “It’s not funny. It’s horrific,” Killua argues, because it totally isn’t. “Alluka is out on a date. With that—that…peasant!”

“I’M GOING TO KILL HIM.”

“Killua, you need to calm—”

“Do  _not_ interfere, Gon. I’m going to do this. I’m going to skin him alive, and feed his  _bones_  to the—”

“ _Killua!”_

“—dogs. Then I’m going to bring him back to life just so I can do it again. And again. And  _again_.”

“Hey!” Gon kicks him from under the table, and Killua  _seethes._ “Cut it out, ne, Killua? Sadism doesn’t look very cute on you.”

“ _I am never cute,_ ” Killua snarls, and Gon looks like he’s trying to suppress a giggle. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing!” Gon  _blatantly lies to his face,_ around a fit of laughter. “It’s just—this. This is pretty funny.”

“It’s not  _funny_. It’s  _horrific,_ ” Killua argues, because it  _totally isn’t_. “Alluka is out on a date. With that—that… _peasant!_ ”

 

“Peasant _?”_ Gon echoes, sounding equal parts entertained and unimpressed. “Lee is a very nice kid, Killua. I’ve known his mother since I was little—”

“Oh?” Killua interrupts, taking a graceless sip of his fudge milkshake. Chocolate on chocolate on  _chocolate._ Or as Gon calls it: health problems on health problems on health problems. “Is she one of the  _fanatics_ who  _taught you things_ , growing up?”

Gon looks absolutely scandalized, and Killua gives a satisfied smirk.

“Killua!” he gasps. “That’s so impolite! She is a very nice lady.”

Killua feels oddly guilty under the other boy’s stare, but rather than an apology, he only offers a resigned, “Oh, bite me.”

Gon seems to perk up at that, and Killua’s gaze trails to several tables ahead, where Alluka is sitting across from The Dead Boy Walking.

 _Any funny business,_ Killua decides,  _and he will meet his end._

“Killua, stop daydreaming about that child’s doom.”

“It isn’t a dream, Gon. It will be reality, soon enough.”

Gon just gives him a gentle look, before biting into his sandwich and taking a sip of orange juice.

“I don’t know why you’re being like this. Alluka is fourteen now, and she’s been living on the island for a while.  _Plus_ she’s smart and pretty. Of course a boy would want to go out on a date with her.”

“ _That is not the issue,”_ Killua hisses, because,  _come on._ Gon is supposed to agree with him on this one. Gon is supposed to be on  _his side,_ and not that scruffy little kid’s. “Listen, Gon, if people were given ranks like hunter stuff, Alluka is clearly Rank A. The top of the line.  _Perfect._ And that Limb kid or whatever is a D at best. A  _peasant._ She could do  _light years_ better.”

“His name is  _Lee,”_ Gon corrects gently. “And like I said—”

“—he will die if he hurts my sister,” Killua interrupts, and Gon does not contest that.

“But what kind of person would you want Alluka to date?” he asks, at length.

Killua sighs quietly, stirring at his shake.  _Goddammit, what a topic._

“…Someone who is worthy of her. And makes her happy,” he offers after a while.

“See?” Gon chides. “You’re just a big softie in the end.”

Killua glares in response, plucking one of the cherry-tomatoes off of Gon’s plate and popping it into his mouth.

“She just deserves a good person, after all she’s been through.”

“Mm, she does.” Gon’s eyes soften, but there is a glint of mischief to them when he says, offhandedly, “What if  _I_ dated Alluka?”

Killua  _chokes._ On the stupid stolen freaking tomato. He tries to wash down his gasps with a sip of chocolate but the flavors clash and he lets out a dismayed gasp, before finally settling down with a croak of: “ _What?_ ”

Gon breaks out into peals of laughter, his story-long eyelashes curling into each other as his eyes seam shut. Killua only stares at him, completely lost.

“ _Why_ are you  _laughing—”_

Gon leans in, then, his smile summer-bright when he says, in a whisper:

“Just kidding.” Killua gapes at the closeness _._ “I really like Alluka a lot, you know, but Killua…”

Gon beams. “You’re my number one, of course!”

Killua feels a strange stirring in the backs of his eyes, the pulse of his chest. Quickly, he looks away, bringing a hand to his face, if only to cover up the flush.

“Idiot,” he grumbles. “How is it you’re still so embarrassing, after all this time?”

Gon chimes, “It’s part of my charm!”

Killua mumbles, “Sure, sure.”

“Oh, speaking of charm. It looks like Alluka and Lee left before us!”

“WHAT.”

X

“That boy with white hair was your  _brother_?”

“Mm!” Alluka says, proudly. “Killua is the best onii-chan in the world!”

“He looked like he wanted to skin me alive,” Lee tells her, scratching his neck sheepishly. “He was watching us the entire time, too…”

“Ah,” Alluka does not disagree with that, but instead says, “But he’s really nice when you get to know him!  _Super nice!”_

“And that other boy with him?”

“Oh, Gon-kun!” Alluka giggles. “He’s the reason we were able to escape the café.”

Lee asks, curiously, “Really?”

“He’s onii-chan’s one weakness! Besides me, of course.” She gives a V-sign. “He offered to distract my big brother for us!” 

X

 “I’M GOING TO KILL HIM. AND THEN YOU, GON. IN THAT CONSECUTIVE ORDER.”

 "But–but,  _Killua!”_

“I’m coming for you, Limb. Just you wait.”

“His name is  _Lee,_ Killua, it's  _Lee!_ ”

“NOBODY ASKED YOU, TRAITOR.”

X

At the local ice-cream shop, Lee sneezes.

Alluka giggles. “Somebody’s talking about you!”

Lee sense a faraway, harrowing aura, and shivers.

“…Hopefully it’s all good things.”


	18. lifelines in your hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Small boys, large city, large mission, larger world,_ and large universes within child-skin and child-bones, and Killua is still old where he shouldn’t be, and so is Gon, so he says, very softly, “It’s okay. Killua, it’s okay, I’m here.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,  _shut up—”_

Gon awakens with a start.

Killua is trembling on the bed beside him, curled into a knot of bones and white. The covers are sprawled around him in crumpled folds as he repeats, over and over:

“ _Shut up._ I won’t, I won’t run,  _I won’t_ —”

 _He’s having a nightmare,_ Gon realizes, instantly alert. More than anything, it’s jarring; Killua has never been anything less than put-together, at all times, even when Gon  _knows_ he is anything but.

“Killua,” he murmurs, gently, shifting closer. Without his Nen _,_ Gon feels oddly bare as he reaches out a hand to the other boy. Killua’s nails point into claws, flaring out as soon as he gets too close.

“ _Stop!”_

“Killua, it’s  _me,_ ” Gon says, louder this time, although he does not know just what that means, anymore. Since they left the NGL, there has been a distance, a rift, and he does not know which one of them had planted it there.  _Maybe both of them are to blame._ “Killua, wake up.  _Please._ ”

Killua makes a very sharp, very low sound that achingly resembles a sob. His hands come up to his face, scratching red-trails just above his eyes, as if there is something trapped in there.

“…I won’t run…Gon… _Aniki…_ ”

 _That’s it._ Gon grabs for Killua’s wrists—they’re burning with Nen, but he doesn’t care. And Gon knows he is weak, now, knows that somewhere soul-deep. He knows Killua has always been the stronger one, between the two of them, but he also knows Killua does not always sleep easy, does not always dream sweet, and he knows he’s avoided it sometimes, knows he’s let the issues drop. Gon knows he has been selfish, knows he’s been afraid, knows Killua knows it and  _yet_ —he can’t let go, right now,  _he won’t let go, right now,_ even as Killua’s Nen burns along the lines of his palms.

“Wake up,” Gon begs.  _Weak, weak, weak._ “Please, Killua. I’m here.”

And just like that, Killua’s hands go slack in his own. The claws recede, the Nen dissipates. But he is still shivering, still so very small beside him— _they’re both small,_ he realizes _. Small boys, large city, large mission, larger world,_ and large universes within child-skin and child-bones, and Killua is still old where he shouldn’t be, and so is Gon, so he says, very softly, “It’s okay. Killua, it’s okay, I’m here.”

“The needle…” Killua whispers. “I have to…I have to get it out…”

“Shh,” Gon murmurs. Tenderly, he wraps his arms around Killua’s shoulders, bringing him close enough so that his face aligns with Gon’s throat. “I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

Killua sucks in a sharp breath; it traces along the pulse of his neck.

“I…Gon. It’s n—”

“Don’t say it’s nothing,” Gon interrupts. “I know it isn’t.”

Killua shakes, like something lost, in his arms.

And again, he says, like a lifeline, “ _Gon_.”

Again, Gon tells him, “I’m here.”


	19. i don't want the story to end - (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Once upon a time, there was a boy, who lived on a mountain. His name was…“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU, part 1/2

“Mito-san,” Gon singsongs. “Can you read me the story, again?”

At that, Mito lets out a quiet sigh. “Aren’t you tired of that book, Gon?”

“No!” Gon crosses his arms. “It’s my favorite.”

“It’s  _morbid_ ,” Mito mumbles. But even so, she steps toward the bookshelf, reaching for the spine of small, dark book. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“It’s my  _favorite_ ,” Gon repeats, his smile bright. He leans up from beneath the covers. “Ne, ne, Mito-san, please read it to me!”

Mito laughs softly, before settling on the edge of the bed.

“Alright, alright,” she murmurs, opening to the first page.  “Once upon a time, there was a boy, who lived on a mountain. His name was…“ 


	20. i don't want the story to end - (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua glances to the book beside him. _I don’t want this story to end._

“…Killua,” Illumi says, his voice low. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing,” Killua answers, too quickly. He shuts the book in an instant, hoping his brother will just let him off, this time.

“Nothing?”  _No such luck._ “But I saw it clearly in your hands.”

 _You dreamt it,_ Killua wants to say, but something inside of him knows better.

Instead, he grumbles, “It’s…a story.”

“A story?”

“Yes,” Killua grits out, his gaze lowered. He counts through the seconds of silence, makes it to  _twelve_ , before adding: “I picked it up during one of my jobs.”

“A person who reads stories…” Illumi starts. “Isn’t the type of person we kill.”

Killua startles. “ _Aniki_ —”

“A person who reads stories…” Illumi echoes, coming closer. “Isn’t someone who can kill so easily. Don’t you think?”

The younger boy swallows. “I can still…” The words catch like glass. “I  _can_ ,” he manages, after a moment. “I can still do work. I just…”

Killua glances to the book beside him.  _I don’t want this story to end._

He doesn’t tell his brother this. Rather, he remains silent, until Illumi breaks the quiet.

“What is it about?” he asks. Killua blinks up at him, taken aback, and Illumi clarifies. “The story.”

“It’s…” Killua’s hands sift over the cover. “It’s about a boy.”

“A boy?”

“Mm,” Killua says, and for a life-long second, he isn’t in a cold room in a cold home, on the edge of a cold mountain. He isn’t here with his brother or with his family or even with his  _life._ He is elsewhere, in a land of jasmine-earth and water.

“It’s about a boy, who lives on an island…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end! (:


End file.
